


drinks on me

by porcelainanimals



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol, Bartenders, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1569800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelainanimals/pseuds/porcelainanimals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Armin steps into the bar on the corner of 38th and East, he doesn’t expect much more than few shots of vodka and maybe a bad appetizer or two. He slides onto a bar stool and waves down the bartender. It’s been a long day and the last thing he needs is his sobriety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drinks on me

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill from tumblr (dates-at-the-zoo). Please enjoy! I'd love to hear any comments you might have, and feel free to drop by my tumblr for more of my work.
> 
> PS: I know nothing about cute mixed drinks so I literally just googled them all so please forgive any inaccuracies.

When Armin steps into the bar on the corner of 38th and East, he doesn’t expect much more than few shots of vodka and maybe a bad appetizer or two. He slides onto a bar stool and waves down the bartender. It’s been a long day and the last thing he needs is his sobriety. “Just get me something strong,” he sighs aimlessly, and the other nods.

"Any preferences? Mixed drink, on the rocks, magical smoothie? I make some damn good cocktails, if I might say so myself."

Armin looks up, startled, and nearly laughs at how serious the bartender looks. “Uhm, I don’t know. Surprise me.” He waves his hand carelessly, not really in the mood for conversation, although the other is surprisingly cute. “Vodka. Something with vodka in it.”

The other nods and as he turns to grab whatever he needs to grab, Armin catches the glint of a silver nametag that reads ‘Jean’, and he smiles secretively to himself, drumming his fingers along the wood of the bar. Moments later, a delicate martini glass is placed in front of him and Jean stands there with a proud look on his face. “Poire Royale.”

Armin takes the glass, winks, then downs it, somewhat delighted by the horrified expression on Jean’s face. It’s stronger than he expects and he needs a moment to recover, blinking rapidly before he hands the glass over, grinning.

"You were supposed to savour it," Jean mutters, slightly disappointed disappointed, staring at the slice of pear sitting sadly in the glass, and Armin laughs. "I worked hard on that."

"I bet you did," he murmurs, reaching over the bar to tuck a neatly folded bill into the pocket of Jean’s vest, who splutters just a little. "Don’t worry. I enjoyed it."

"Why don’t you just order shots if you’re going to do that?"

"I guess I could," Armin shrugs, tugging at the scarf around his neck. "But isn’t it more fun this way? Make me something else."

Jean makes a face but obediently fetches his shaker and replaces Armin’s glass with another, slim and red. “Kerasi,” he says, garnishing it with a cherry and a generous amount of champagne, grabbing at Armin’s wrist when he reaches for the drink. “Take it slowly. Taste it.”

Armin doesn’t say anything, just gently removes Jean’s fingers from him and delicately sips at the cocktail. It is good, he thinks, and he can barely taste the alcohol. When he looks up, Jean’s staring at him expectantly and he can’t help thinking of how cute he is. “It’s good.”

"Isn’t it?" Jean breathes, eyes bright, and Armin can practically see the tail wagging. "My favourite part is the Cava. It adds a whole other dimension to the drink."

Armin just nods in response, distracted as his phone starts to buzz insistently in his pocket and he fishes it out, shooting Jean an apologetic look as he answers the call. “Eren? No, I’m out. At a bar, why?”

"A bar? Why are you at a bar? What do you need a bar for?"

"Calm down, Eren. I’m just getting a few drinks and - "

"What? Are you okay? Do you need me to get you? No, never mind, Mikasa’s already on her way."

He groans as Eren hangs up before he can tell his childhood friend that no, he is not drunk, and no, he doesn’t need a ride home. He can always call a taxi and plus, it’s not as if he’s ready to leave, but Jean just taps his shoulder, holding out a small glass. “Peach crush?”

"Thanks," he sighs, taking it as a shot and Jean doesn’t even make a face this time. "I guess my ride’s coming."

He leaves behind a generous tip as he scoots off of his perch, flashing a quick smile, and saunters out of the bar. When the cool winter air hits his flushed cheeks, he realizes that maybe he took those a little too quickly and pats at his face with his hands as he walks the block to the designated meeting spot. Mikasa pulls up in a dark grey Prius, looking stern and strict as she orders Armin into the passenger seat and promptly hands him a bottle of water. “I’m not drunk, Mikasa,” he protests, but she always gets her way and Armin ends up drinking two bottles by the time she drops him off at his apartment, a strange expression on her face. He smiles affectionately, fingers curling around the key in his pocket. “I’m fine. Just had a bad day is all. Promise.”

—-

It’s only a week before he finds himself back at Mustang’s and he grins when he sees Jean perk up from behind the bar. “Hey.”

"Hey. What can I get you?"

"Anything you recommend?" Armin asks, leaning in a bit more close than necessary, and Jean’s cheeks are dusted with just the slightest shade of pink.

"U-uhm, yeah," he stutters, turning around to busy himself with bottles and shakers, and Armin feels awfully smug at the way he curses when he accidentally knocks something over. "Is uh, rum alright?"

"Rum’s perfect."

"Caipiríssima," he announces with a flourish, handing Armin a squat glass. "More of a summer drink, but it’s one of my personal favourites."

Armin accepts, tilting the glass toward him. “Cheers,” he calls, draining half of the glass. “Oh. It’s pretty good.”

"Pretty good? You mean really good, right?"

"Don’t get cocky," he smirks, reaching out to run his fingers along the back of Jean’s hand. "It’s alright, I guess."

"Alright," Jean repeats hollowly, staring, and Armin decides he likes the way Jean looks when he’s flustered, likes the way his mouth parts slightly when Armin’s thumb brushes against his knuckles. "You’re alright too. I mean, not that you’re not great, but you know, while we’re at it, you know?"

He can’t help laughing as he finishes his drink, trying not to choke himself on a lime.

—-

He likes how Jean never pushes him, he thinks as he plays with an olive in an empty martini glass and watches Jean interacting with some customers on the other end of the bar. Jean notices him staring and sends him an easy grin that somehow sends his heart racing. It’s strange, he muses, and orders another drink.

"You’ve been going out a lot," Eren says accusingly as he steps back into their shared apartment. "You smell like alcohol."

Armin shrugs, hangs up his coat, and heads into the living room. “I guess,” he finally answers when Eren sends him a long stare, and turns on the television. “What’s it to you?”

Eren gapes, as if it’s obvious, and Armin turns his attention to the evening news. He thinks of warm brown eyes and fingers that seem to linger a little too long on his. Eren narrows his eyes and returns to his room, slamming the door loudly behind him. Armin sighs, and wonders if Jean would taste like a Belladonna.

—-

"We should go out," Armin says casually, and Jean drops a glass. "For dinner. Do you like Italian?"

"Oh," Jean gapes, and Armin winks. "I uh, should clean this up."

"What did you think I meant?" He laughs and Jean reaches for a dustpan. He stretches out over the bar to tuck a folded bill into Jean’s breast pocket, a slip of paper folded discreetly in its center, and gets up. "I’ll see you around."

He’s getting into his car when a breathless Jean crashes into him and strong arms wrap around his waist from behind. “So, are you free tomorrow night?”

"Oh my god, Jean, I thought I was being mugged!"

"Sorry," Jean grins nervously, pulling away. "I guess… I… Slipped?"

Armin likes the way Jean’s cheeks look when they’re flushed, how his eyes sparkle, and he wraps his hand around the black tie around Jean’s neck, yanking him closer. “Tomorrow is perfect,” he whispers before their lips meet and he’s pretty sure he’s never been kissed so hard before in his life. Jean tastes like spearmint gum and he laughs into the kiss, his free hand gripping Jean’s shoulder tightly. When they finally break apart, they’re panting, and Armin feels a little lightheaded.

"Oh my god," Jean breathes, pressing their foreheads together. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that."

Armin laughs again and it feels like he’s soaring.


End file.
